Hearts of Stone
by TigOBitties
Summary: Once, there existed a spreadsheet. This spreadsheet would randomly generate two characters from just about any fandom or story I have ever come across. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to write a short ficlet of these two characters (romantic or not). Here is my first go at the roulette!


Branches snapped beneath her boots as she moved through the forest. Her once pristine robes, changed to torn and dirtied rags from her travels. Blonde and black streaked hair, usually known for its perfect style and shine, was in tangled disarray tied loosely back for practicality.

The war was over. Her son was dead. Her efforts to lie to the Dark Lord to save him were nothing against the vengeful spells thrown by the 'light' side. Her sister was dead by the wand of a housewife, of all things. Tru, Bella hadn't been the sister she remembered for many years, but she could still pretend while she was alive. Now, she couldn't. Her husband, that coward, had been killed by falling rubble as he tried to hide himself during the battle. His battle. His war. The war that took her baby boy. That took the only one that mattered to her.

It was naive of her to think that what she did and what she had gone through would matter in the end. That she had lied to save 'the boy who lived'. That she had been a hostage in her own home for more than three years. That she had even been the one to call Lucius' former house elf to the manor to get 'the golden trio' when they had been captured. She was too Slytherin for her own good, it seemed. Nobody believed her to be an innocent victim in this war, let alone a hero. Why should they? She was the Ice Queen. The stone-souled lady of the manor. The untouchable Narcissa Malfoy.

And so they came for her. The wards didn't hold for long on her home since the Lord Malfoy, such as he was, had died. She didn't even have time to gather any supplies. She just ran. Their shouted hexes and taunts as clear as the following explosions as they destroyed her home. Her things. Her memories. She ran.

It didn't take her long to realise that she had to leave the country. Her pursuers were many, with unending motivation and seemingly limitless resources. In hindsight, those resources were probably from her own finances since the Ministry had seen fit to sieze all assets in the Black and Malfoy names. It was fitting.

Leaving England was hard, but realizing that the hounds would chase her still was harder. They tracked her to France after she carelessly revealed herself to the foreign ministry in a naive attempt for sanctuary. The french seemed to hate her nearly as much as the english. Most likely due to her husband's and his associates' influence more than any of her own. She managed to hide in Poland a bit longer, but, while trying to earn enough to live by (how she thought she had fallen), she was recognized by a muggleborn couple on holiday. Now, she was in Greece. Somewhere on one of the tiny islands in the southeast.

Amongst the rubble of long past civilization, she could find no sign of recent human habitation. Maybe, she thought, she could be safe here. No people meant no wizards. No wizards meant no pain. No more.

As she wandered along the coast, she spotted a cave opening in the cliffside. It was tucked away just behind a natural outcropping that it would be practically impossible to see from the water. It was potentially the perfect hiding place for her, barring any current inhabitants, of course. She shuddered. Former aristocrat or not, nobody wanted to find a nest of rats in the dark. She learned that lesson the hard way back in England. Back in the beginning. Thunder rolled in the distance, pulling her from her thoughts. She could see dark clouds building off the coast. The sea was getting rough and angry. Lightening stabbed through the distant haze of heavy rain. She was hesitant to use her wand to create any substantial shelter, lest her wand be traced (another early mistake). With a sigh, she turned to the cave. No choice. The storm was coming, and she needed to get out of the way.

Cautiously, she entered the mouth of the cave. Only venturing in about twenty feet or so. If something was living here, hopefully it was willing to let her borrow just this little bit for now. Pulling her rucksack from her shoulders, she chose a spot in a corner to set up her temporary camp. Thankful as always for her moderate abilities with wandless magic, she extracted a tiny folding chair and a handfull of woodchips. Setting them on the ground, she waved her hand and the items enlarged to their original sizes. She now had a place to rest her tired body, and a neat little stack of wood for a fire. Reaching back into her bag, she retrieved a muggle lighter from its depths. No need to waste energy on magic when she could simply flick a lighter.

Once her fire was going and the slight chill of the cave dispersed, she looked into the darkness. The cave appeared to be a tunnel. It's walls continuing for about thirty or so feet before curving out of her sight. For a moment, she wondered how deep the tunnel went, but the howling of the storm brought her attention back to her current situation. Exploring the unknown depths of the cave was something would have done as a child, but not now. Now, she was a grown woman. A woman of dignity. A woman of responsibility. She didn't have time for such frivolity.

While she made herself busy tending her small fire, there was a mighty crash as a great bolt of lightning struck the cliffside. Narcissa scrambled back, hastily grabbing her bag as she went, to avoid being crushed by the large stones and boulders dislodged in the blast. They crashed down in an avalanche of rock and sediment around the entrance. The cloud of dirt and dust choked her. With her arm thrown across her face, she moved further and further into the cave.

When the rumbling finally subsided, Narcissa reached once more into her bag, and, after a moment of fumbling in the dark, flicked on a flashlight. She briefly shook her head at the irony of how often she had to rely on the various muggle technologies now. Holding the device in front of her, she surveyed what used to be the mouth of the cave.

"Well," she sighed, "I suppose I don't have much choice now." Adjusting her pack on her shoulders, she slowly began making her way down the passage.

The shadows cast by the various rock formations looked sinister and dangerous in the glow of her flashlight. Feeling a shiver of fear move down her spine, she paused. "No," she thought to herself. "Even if there was something in here that wanted to hurt me, jumping at shadows will do nothing but make me even more vulnerable. I need to get a hold of myself. I faced down the most feared wizard in England, damn it! I will NOT be afraid of the dark!"

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and took a confident step forward. A flicker. "Shit!" She knocked her hand against the device a few times. It didn't help. With another expletive, her light went out. She reached into her bag once more and fumbled about. Grumbling in aggravation, she made a realization that had her smacking her forehead in a manner most undignified. She did not have any spare batteries. She briefly considered using her muggle lighter for some illumination, but decided that the meager light from the device would not be worth the fuel spent on it. She was keenly aware of her finite resources at the moment. As for her magic, she couldn't sustain an indefinite 'lumos' spell with her wandless abilities, and she still couldn't risk using her wand. With another sigh, she put one hand on the wall and began to slowly move forward.

While she thought about how supremely stupid she was being, wandering around an unknown cave while blind, she had her ears peeled for any sounds not her own. Her breathing was loud in the echoing darkness. Her shuffling footsteps kicked small pebbles across the floor to clatter away. Just as she was about to give in and pull out her lighter, a soft blue glow appeared ahead of her.

Narcissa slowly approached the light and, rounding the final bend in the tunnel, stopped short at the sight before her. A temple. Not like the ruins she passed out on the island's surface, but a fully intact and pristine temple. The marble facets gleamed in the gently light. Fountains burbled away with their crystal clear waters streaming. Looking up, she could see that the origin of the light was actually an absolutely massive cluster of glowing crystals attached to the ceiling of the cavern.

As she gazed up at the crystals, she heard a rustling behind her. Whirling around, she could see no source to the sound in the shadows of the temple. She turned back to the fountain nearest her, but, before she could examine it closer, a voice whispered from, seemingly, everywhere.

"What brings someone like you to my humble temple, little mortal?" the voice whispered. It sounded soft, but rough. Like whoever was speaking did not do so often. But, despite the almost ominous tone, Narcissa thought she detected a hint of genuine curiosity in the question.

Slowly turning in a circle, Narcissa replied, "I apologize for the intrusion upon your temple," she said with a slight bow of her head. Her lifelong social graces returning to her, though she hadn't had much use of them in months. "I was driven into your cave by a storm, and had no intention of venturing in further were it not for a cave in that blocked the entrance. I am simply trying to find a way back out. I did not mean to trespass in any way."

The rustling was heard again from behind her, but Narcissa did not turn. She didn't want to appear aggressive if she didn't have to. The voice spoke again. "I see. This may explain your presence in my home, but this island is not exactly a frequented area. Why are you on this island? Why have you come to a place that has seen no human in over a century?" The voice was a little less rough as it continued to speak, and Narcissa could determine a rather feminine tone. A currently very suspicious tone.

With a sigh, Narcissa made a quick decision. "I will not lie to you, whoever you are. I have no reason to do so. I am trying to find a place to hide. My pursuers have been hunting me across all of europe over the past few months."

The voice gave a hiss of displeasure. "Why do they hunt you? Are you a criminal of some kind? A murderer, even? It is hard to imagine a crime so great as to warrant such a long chase. Tell me why."

Narcissa could sense that her response would determine, quite possibly, whether she lived or died to whoever this creature was. "There was a war in my homeland," she began. She would try her best to condense her situation so as to not bore or anger the creature. "Of the two factions, I was, admittedly, on the wrong side. Though I did not directly support their cause, myself, my inaction and cowardice was viewed as support. Out of fear for my son, I allowed a monster into my home. In the final battle, I found a fragment of courage and aided those who were on the right side of things, but it was too late. My reputation was tethered to the dark side, my sisters were gone, and my son," her voice caught at the memory. "My Draco was dead. I didn't even have time to mourn him before they came for me. They destroyed my home and all of my momentos of my family as I fled." She sighed. Shoulders sagging, she finished her tale. "I have been running ever since. It has been months, and I am tired. Tired of running. Tired of fear. Tired of sadness. Just tired."

There was a weighted pause before the voice returned. "I appreciate your honesty," it began quietly. "I have known very few mortals who were willing to admit to faults in themselves. And I am not foreign to being hunted for what amounts to a lack of willingness to understand another's situation. Tell me. What is your name?"

"Narcissa," the witch answered. She felt no need for her last name here. Especially if this place was as isolated as it seemed.

The voice gave an amused chuckle. "How fitting! The woman named for the man who loved all that was beautiful, and was entranced by his own visage has found herself in the home of the woman whose visage cannot be beheld for the peril to the beholder."

When Narcissa's brow furrowed in confusion followed by her eyes widening in realization, the voice spoke up once more. "I see you know me," she said. Her voice had taken on an edge now, and Narcissa believed she knew why.

"I believe that I have heard of your story," Narcissa began, "but I cannot say that I know you. Your tale paints you as a fierce monster who kills indiscriminately all who approach, but I have seen no such aggression here, today. From our interaction thus far, I have a feeling that the only visitors you tend to receive are those attempting to "slay the beast" as it were, so your caution is warranted. I actually feel that I should thank you for the opportunity to explain myself before being killed out of sheer self preservation at the outset of all of this." Narcissa softly closed her eyes and turned to the last direction she heard the voice from. "So thank you, Madame Medusa, for your hospitality thus far."

The shuffling drew closer, and Narcissa felt something pressed over her eyes. A cloth. A blindfold, she realized.

"I have seen several mortals open their eyes in reflex, so please keep that on. And 'Medusa' is fine. I don't believe I have ever been addressed as 'Madame' in my significant lifetime," said the gorgon in a voice far closer than before. As Narcissa reached up to tie the cloth over her eyes, her fingers grazed the soft, warm flesh of Medusa's own fingers. She heard a slight gasp at the contact.

With a slight blush, Narcissa regarded her own reaction to the contact. Those fingers had been delicate and soft. The voice that had been whispering to her was now like velvet to her ears. And, she admitted to herself, it had been many years since she had been...close with anyone. And, if it had been long to her, how long must it have been for her companion?

Medusa must have been having similar thoughts as, in the next moment, Narcissa felt those delicate fingers ghost over her arm. Narcissa couldn't contain her sigh of pleasure at the soft touch. Up the fingers trailed. Arms, shoulders, throat, cheeks. She felt hot breath on her ear.

"If you tell me you do not want this, I will stop right now. You may rest in my temple and leave after your storm has passed. But, if you do want this, know that you will be worshipped. For you are just as beautiful as your name suggests. Tell me. What do you want, Narcissa?"

Narcissa shuddered at the way her name drifted from Medusa's lips. Like the very word was savored by the gorgon. "Yes," she whispered. "I want this. I want you." Her own hands gently followed Medusa's own arms up to her face. She brought their lips close and gave a brief whisper of her own. "Let us make our own storm," before she softly pressed her lips to those before her.

A/N:

I might end it here. I could be persuaded to keep it going a little more. If anyone else feels the urge to keep it going, just let me know so I can read it too! I wonder what my next roulette pull will be!


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